Tik Tok?
by Scotty McSpockirk
Summary: Carter writes a song.


_**Tik Tok?**_

**By: ScottyMcSpockirk**

"Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy."

"What?" And Englanders voice rang out from the common room table.

"Huh?" Carter, who was propped up in his bunk with a notebook, asked.

"What are you doing?" Newkirk responded in another question.

Without looking up from his notepad, Carter replied, "I'm writing a song about waking up."

Newkirk was silent and stared at him with a questioning look for a few moments. "What's a P Diddy?"

"...I don't know."

Newkirk shrugged and walked off to the sink to begin shaving.

"Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city."

"You don't wear glasses, Andrew." Said Newkirk, while applying shaving soap to his face.

Carter turned to Newkirk and sighed, "You're right." Then he crossed out the few words from his notebook.

"Before I leave brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack."

"Jack, well there's something _I _know 'bout," Newkirk said, smiling, as he continued to shave, "But why the bloody 'ell are you brushing your teeth with it, mate?"

Once again, Carter sighed and looked dejectedly at his song. "I guess you're right, it's doesn't make much sense." And again he scratched his previous writings from his paper.

"'Cause when I leave for the night I ain't coming back."

"Now, Andrew," Newkirk criticized again, shaking his finger at Carter, "we all know that wouldn't make any sense! If you just woke up, tell me 'ow you could be leaving for the night so soon?"

Carter stared silently at Newkirk for a few moments, then replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "Just—just don't interrupt my creative flow, Newkirk," He smirked. "You're just jealous." He then turned away from Newkirk and back to his paper.

"I'm talking pedicure on our toes, toes."

"Come on now, Carter!" Newkirk said, but with no reply from the young sergeant.

"Trying on all our clothes, clothes. Boy's blowing up our phones, phones."

"Really, Carter, my boy," said Newkirk, trying to makes sense of the song, "Why would anybody be blowing up your phone?"

"I don't know, Newkirk, it just sounds good!" was Carters reply, and he returned back to his writing. "Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs, pulling up to parties, trying to get a little bit tipsy."

"Colonel!" Newkirk let out a final call of desperation, beckoning Colonel Hogan to the barrack's common room. "Carter's writing a song!"

"What?" A half-asleep Colonel Hogan emerged from his room. "What's going on?"

"Carter's writing a song, sir." Newkirk repeated. "It's bloody awful—and confusing at that."

"You woke me up for that?" complained the colonel. "Everyone's entitled to have a creative outlet, and I'm sure it's not that bad." He said casually, with a smile.

"You haven't 'eard it yet..." Newkirk said in a low voice as he turned away from Hogan and back to the sink.

By now a group of men had congregated around the bunk where Carter was sitting, writing his song. Some were still in the bunks, but were listening none the less. Carter continued with his song, directing it to Hogan and the other men, excluding Newkirk.

"Ain't got a care in the world but got plenty of beer,"

"Beer?" The friendly face of Sergeant Schultz poked in through the barracks. "Did I hear someone say...'beer'?"

Someone in the back replied, "No Schultz, Carter's writing a song."

"About beer?"

"No, Schultz," Carter answered, "It's about waking up."

Schultz did not reply but a slightly disappointed look showed up on his face.

"Continue, Andrew." Kinch, who was anxious to hear the rest of the song, said.

"Ain't got no money in my pocket but I'm already here—"

Colonel Hogan quickly stopped Carter and interjected, "Carter...where exactly are you?" The colonel was clearly puzzled and everyone stood quietly for a few moments waiting for the answer to the question Hogan had asked.

Carter pondered the inquiry for what seemed like an hour to the inquirers, and then answered, "I'm not sure. I guess I'll get rid of that line." He sounded discouraged, but continued with the song quickly.

"And now the dudes are lining up, 'cause they hear we got swagger."

"Swagger? Like a swagger stick?"

Carter had no answer for the question, because even he did not know what he meant. He then merely shrugged and continued. "But we kick 'em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger..."

"Who's Mick Jagger?" LeBeau questioned from his bunk

"No one…it just sounded good." Carter replied.

"No it didn't." Newkirk interjected.

Carter merely gave Newkirk an unamused look, and then continued with his song. "I'm talking 'bout everyone getting crunk."

"Crunk?" Kinch asked, as if Carter had said something in another language. Carter paid no heed, however, and proceeded.

"Boy's trying to touch my junk."

"Junk?" This time the whole crew asked in unison.

"Gonna smack him if he's getting to drunk."

"I'm gonna get drunk if someone doesn't make 'imp stop soon…" Newkirk complained as he climbed back into his bunk and watch the others from above.

Carter continued, "Now, now, we go till they kick us out."

"I wish someone would kick you out." Yet another remark came from the Englishman's mouth. Colonel Hogan made a gesture for him to be quite, then said to Carter, "Who's gonna kick us out, Carter?"

Carter shrugged. "Should I take that part out?"

Hogan did not say anything, but made a slight nod, accompanied by a confused face.

Carter was quiet for a minute or two. He began to write something down, but after glancing up from his paper to the men around him, quickly scratched it out. After another minute he wrote in his notebook again, and read aloud. "Don't stop…."

"No, do stop…" Newkirk murmured under his breath as he pulled his blanket over his head.

Carter didn't noticed Newkirk's remark, and continued, "Make it pop…DJ blow my speakers up tonight."

"Is this some kind of code?" Kinch asked, scratching his head. Carter didn't so much as look up.

"Tonight, I'mma fight until we see the sunlight. Tick tock on the clock, but the party don't stop, no!" Bobbing his head slightly, he finished with, "Woah-woah, wa-oh! Woah-woah, wa-oh!"

Someone is the back of the room clapped slowly three or four times. The rest of the prisoners, and Shultz, were all quiet, staring down at Sergeant Carter. Carter soon looked up from his paper with a smile. "So, how did you guys like it?"

Hogan opened his mouth, but said nothing. With a confused look on his face, he patted Carter on the back, turned his head, then walked slowly back into his office.

Carter turned to Kinch, whose face looked similar to Hogan's. He shrugged and eventually said, "It was…..good, Carter." He made a small, painful, smile, and then turned to the coffee pot on the stove.

LeBeau came up next to Carter on the table and put one arm around him with a friendly hug. "I liked it, Andrew." He said in a cheery, comforting tone, "It was different!"

"Thanks, Louie." Said Carter, dejectedly. "Do you think other people will like it?"

Newkirk, still in his bunk with his blanket over his head, "humphed."

"I liked it too, Carter." Schultz said with a smile.

"I'm sure they will." LeBeau patted Carter on the back.

"Good!" Carter jumped up. "'Cause I just thought of another song to write!"

Carter grabbed his paper and pen and headed for the door.

"Coming out your mouth with your blah, blah, blah….."


End file.
